The End of Our Long Day
by ambiguously
Summary: Han is in a relationship with Leia and Luke, but even the sweetest things must end. HxLxL
1. Chapter 1

Sequel to: The Plural of 'I' Is 'We'

Relationship: Luke/Leia/Han

Notes: Ignores novelizations, includes some references to other SW canons.

* * *

Leia suggests the plan, and Han doesn't know or care enough about politics or newsfilers to disagree. Luke goes along, though as often as his head has been in another world ever since Endor, he'll agree to anything. Han's been appreciative about Luke's suggestibility over the last few days. Now he's a little worried.

"It will be fine," Leia assures them both. "No one knows Luke is my brother, and no one has to know." She rests her head against Han's chest. Luke's arms are wrapped around her from behind. It's about the happiest Han has ever been in his whole life. That's why he's worried.

Leia is preparing for a position in the temporary new government. She was a Senator from a world that died under the Empire's fist. She'll be a public servant again, one way or another. Han isn't so sure about what role will be left for him in this new galaxy. Chewie's ready to drop their passengers off at Coruscant. He's also ready to go where Han wants, and he'll stay if Han wants to stay. Lando is amused as hell every morning the three of them stumble groggily out of Han's quarters looking for coffee, though he's polite enough not to say anything. He's got a job waiting for him on Coruscant, too. Han still isn't used to seeing his old buddy as respectable, but Lando's latest con is working on everyone so well even he believes it himself.

Luke keeps himself to himself, except when he's wrapped up between the pair of them. He doesn't project the field of doom and gloom he did when he returned from the Death Star carrying a corpse, and that's enough for Han for today.

Coruscant glitters hugely in front of him as the _Falcon_ nears her destination. Han has avoided this place as much as possible over his long career. Already his feet are itching to walk away as fast as they'll carry him. He would go now, but Luke stands behind Han's seat, a calm presence in Han's worried storm, and Leia's face is alight in anticipation of the next stage of her life. He glances over at Chewie, who doesn't even have to shrug. Chewbacca knows Han would walk into hell for him, or for the two humans standing there. Time to prove that.

When they disembark, Leia is instantly recognized in the spaceport by a newfiler, the first of about ten million newsfilers Han will meet, recorder in her hand and ears open for anything to report. "Princess Leia, welcome back to Coruscant. And who is with you?" Other newsfilers swarm close like _pel_ bees buzzing around for a sweet story or satisfying sting.

Leia takes a breath. Han knows she's been practicing her lines. Han and Luke are well-known pilots and heroes of the Rebellion, and Lando is a political ally, and all of them have impressive titles Mon Mothma hands out like ice pops to those she thinks aren't coming back from their missions. "No one has to know more than that," Leia said this morning, rising and falling over him, her hair spilled out, and Han couldn't have argued even had he been able to focus on anything other than how tight and wet she was.

Her hair pinned up and her perfect politician's smile on her face now, she says, "These are my friends."

Threepio interrupts her. "Ah, yes! Allow me to introduce to you General Lando Calrissian, General Han Solo, and of course, Master Luke Skywalker, who is Princess Leia's long lost twin brother!"

There are snaps of vid cams, and an awful, centuries-long moment where Han can actually feel Leia and Luke stop breathing. Luke shutters down into his calm, Jedi place. Leia locks herself into her public role so well he wonders later if she ever let it slip. Her voice is smooth as glass. "Thank you, Threepio. Yes. As I was saying, these are my friends from our time in the Rebellion together." She answers a few questions, and Lando answers a few. The rest of them work on unloading the _Falcon_. Han doesn't have any words to say to Luke right now, not where someone's vid cam might hear, not where Lando's eyes are occasionally resting on him with questions.

Threepio ruins everything.

* * *

Han is looking forward to this conversation as much as he wanted to sit down with Vader at that table on Bespin. Same company, too.

Lando insists on buying the first round. Their table is far enough away from prying ears and eyes that Han knows what they'll be discussing.

"How's the job?" he asks, to get the topic steered in a better direction.

Lando lets the roll of his shoulders under his latest cape speak for him. "Mining rights are tricky when both parties want to obliterate the other's planet, and can. You do not want to know what toys the Empire left lying around."

"Bad stuff, huh?"

"Anyone with enough money and too little common sense can make a mini Death Star of their own within a year. Some of them are crazy enough to try."

"Great." Han doesn't think much about galactic politics. His concerns have always been more local. What cargo is banned in which system means how much he can charge to haul it somewhere else while avoiding Imperial attention. He wants none of this tiptoeing around hurting people's feelings in case they wipe out your solar system bantha fodder.

Lando takes a deceptively long drink. Han's not fooled. They're both old hands at making another party believe they're tipsier than they are. Lando catches his eye, knows he's not fooling anyone, and sets his glass down. "What are you getting yourself into, old buddy?"

Han doesn't tense up. He's spent twenty years burying all his tells. "Sounds like politics to me."

"You know what I mean. Our girl isn't a big ship. Chewie's not going to say anything. Threepio doesn't understand, and you're glad."

"Weren't you the one giving me advice a couple of days ago to go for it?"

"With Leia. I didn't have an issue with the way you three worked it out." Lando's staring at him now. "But I'm worried about you, Han, and I'm worried about those two."

"You don't need to worry. We're fine."

"He's her brother." Lando is speaking very low now. "Did you know?"

"They've known for less than a week. She told me."

"I don't want to know what the three of you are doing. I want to know if you're sure about what's happening. This won't end well. It's going to come out, and it will end her career when it does. Leia is taking a huge risk. Luke could be looking at prison time. And I know how much you love them both, and it'll crack your heart to see them hurt. So I want to know how sure you are before I commit to keeping quiet the rest of my life."

Han sits back. Lando isn't being altruistic. He'll cut them free if he feels he has to in order to salvage his own reputation. He won't rat them out, though. "You know that moment when you first go into hyperspace, and everything is on edge." He doesn't have words for this. He can see Lando understands.

If Han could sort out metaphor and metaphysics, he would say, "There's a pinpoint of time when the ship around you inhales and all the molecules in your body pause between moving forward past the speed of light, or staying behind and slamming you into the bulkhead in a layer of slime two atoms thick, and then you fall over into that burst of starlight and everything makes sense because it's the first time you can really breathe and it's the one place you really belong."

Han doesn't say any of that. Lando's been there. Han says, "I've been standing at the edge of a hyperspace jump my entire life, and I never knew it until a few days ago. I don't want to think about stopping."

"Okay." Lando takes another drink. "I won't say a word."

There's a look on his face Han can't read. They've passed some moment, and can drop back down into more familiar territory. "You're not jealous, are you?"

"There's no point. I was never even on Leia's charts."

"I didn't mean that. I meant, you and I that one time..."

"Never happened," Lando says, very definitely, and Han can't argue with him.

* * *

The suite of rooms isn't bad. There's a room for him and Leia, and a second room for Chewie. Leia pulled the right strings to get Luke the suite next door, where he has a room for his weird Jedi meditation and a spare room that can function as Leia's office and a recharging station for the droids during off hours. There are two panels in the sitting room that give easily to Chewie's wrench, and the third is brought down with a lightsaber.

"We don't own this place," Leia says with a sigh, but she loves having double the living space when she's here to enjoy it. She's already been handed some tangled treaty between two planets. Half her time at home is spent on her communicator using her patient voice, and she doesn't spend much time at home.

Han can't stop the itch in his feet. "We got her here. I'm not so sure she needs us to stay," he says one night, blankets tangled and messy and crumpled at the foot of the bed. Luke's desert-hot beside him, thinking about something. He's always thinking. Some nights Han feels like he's talking to a very serene wall.

"She needs us," he says at last, coming back from whatever distant world he's inhabiting tonight. "She's got so much on her plate to do. We keep her stable."

Han doesn't feel like Leia's stabilizer. He does feel like her well-kept sex toy. Luke plucks the thought right out of his head. "Don't. She knows you're not used to staying in one place. She's trying to give you a reason to stay."

Luke is irritatingly calm about this. Han is close to drifting off when the door slides open and his very tired best girl lets herself in. "I know you're awake," she whispers, clothes slipping off in slitheringly sheer noises. She climbs into the bed and wraps up behind Han's back, grabbing the covers as she does.

There's a long pause in which Han hears nothing but the matched breaths of the pair to either side of him, and the distant, quiet beep of R2 charging in another room. Leia breaks the silence. "There's a famine on Danoor. Captain Syndulla is taking a convoy of supplies to aid them. She leaves tomorrow. She needs pilots."

Luke rolls over. He's facing her over Han in the darkness. "Did you volunteer us?"

"No, but I suggested she ask you in the morning, and I told her you'd both probably say yes."

Danoor? Han never much bothered with the place. The _Falcon_ can hold plenty of cargo, legal or otherwise. "How long is the mission?"

"A week. Maybe two."

He could use a week away. Part of him wonders if Luke put the idea to Leia verbally or even as a quiet suggestion in the back of her mind. He feels a hot hand against his shoulder. "No."

"You're not going?" Leia asks.

"I'm going. Han is wondering if I put the idea in your head." To Han's surprise, Luke climbs atop him, pushing Han against the mattress. They've had their fun tonight. He's limp and sated against Han's belly as his legs pin Han to the bed. One hand reaches out to grasp Leia's. They join their hands together on Han's chest. Han is confused. Leia is confused.

Luke says, "I have never tried to use the Force to make either of you think or do something. I never will. Not even when you're both being idiots."

Han glances at Leia. In an instant, they grab Luke and toss him to the bed neatly between them. Leia kisses him. Han realizes Leia hasn't spent the evening messing up the sheets, and might like a turn to do so, which is far, far easier than talking about anything else.

* * *

Han, Luke, and Chewie ship out the next day. Leia doesn't see them off due to work. The droids stay on Coruscant with her. Han doesn't see much of Luke on the voyage because the kid is flying his own cargo ship. Maybe it's good to have a little alone time, or as close to as he gets with his best friend on his best ship.

"You're not going to lecture me, right?" Han asks him after Luke signs off from a transmission they know isn't private.

Chewie shakes his head. He likes Luke. He likes Leia. He thinks Han is happy in a giant pile, but since Han brought it up, extra soundproofing between their rooms wouldn't be a bad thing.

"As soon as we get home," Han swears, and he discovers the word isn't as wrong-feeling in his mouth as he thought.

* * *

It's a longer trip than Captain Syndulla originally planned. Not only are they bringing supplies, but there's a lot of medical aid that needs to be delivered. Luke's in his element, offering up smiles and Jedi healing for the children who come to the new Republic's makeshift health center. Han just wants to get back into space. He doesn't miss how fond the Captain is of Luke's boyish charms.

"It's not like that. She's fond of Jedi," Luke says when Han teases him later.

"Yeah. Fond." He wants to make a bigger deal of her obvious favoritism, but it's hard to focus when Luke's hands are working magic the Jedi would definitely have frowned upon.

Leia sends him a transmission one night, and he can see Luke's been copied on it. "Miss you both. When you get back to Coruscant, we should talk about marriage."

Luke is on the _Falcon_ poking through their rations for dinner ideas when Leia's message comes through. Han feels like he's been smacked in the head with a hammer, and only Luke's amused presence keeps him from falling over.

"Marriage? She doesn't mean what I think she means?"

Luke says, "I guarantee she isn't talking about me."

"Are you sure? She copied you."

"I'm sure. You're going to be fine, Han. You love her. She loves you." There is the faintest hesitation in his voice. Han feels the terror draining from him, replaced with a different worry.

"You know if we do, you're not going anywhere, right?" He grabs Luke's hand, reassuring himself as much as he can. Marriage has never been on his personal agenda, but if he's going to think about taking that kind of leap, he's clear on what he wants. A lifetime of subtle and not so subtle jokes about Corellian marital habits are in the back of his head. Han doesn't care.

If Luke feels what Han is thinking, he doesn't say. Instead he pulls Han down into a kiss, and if his eyes are closed and the expression on his face is marked with a distant sorrow, Han knows Luke goes into that shadowed place inside himself a lot.

* * *

"I've talked them out of making it a state occasion," Leia says to them almost the minute they return to Coruscant. "The Alderanian Embassy, what's left of it, would love to make this a ten day celebration." For a moment, her smile matches the same sad expression Luke's been wearing when he thinks Han isn't looking. They're so alike he can't imagine how he never knew.

"How many days?" Luke asks.

"One, and unless you object, we're doing the majority of it at the Registration Center."

Han's caught off-footed again. Leia was fêted with mad birthday parties as a girl, handed lavish gifts and week-long festivities. She's the last surviving member of Alderaan's royalty, adopted or not, and her people like a good bash. "I figured you would want something big."

"I told them I'd rather spend the money on the Republic's reconstruction efforts." Her expression tilts again. She's the politician when she says, "We are in a time of crisis and uncertainty. People worry they won't have food tomorrow. The Empire was cruel, but the supplies arrived on schedule. It would be a good show for the galaxy to see the leaders of the Rebellion settle down and start families. A small but well-publicized wedding will send that message."

This is the first time Leia is so blunt about using Han as a political tool. He wants to fight her just for that. In fact, he's about to when Luke steps between them and wraps his arms around Leia's neck. "I'm sorry you're being put through this."

" _She's_ being put through this?" Han is still spoiling for a fight.

They both turn to him, similar expressions on their faces. Leia says, "I never wanted to get married, Han. I told you that years ago."

He glances at Luke, who seems unsurprised. They read each other sometimes, better than Han can read either one. Luke would know, and come to think of it, Han knows this, too. A dozen half-remembered conversations filter into his memory. Part of him thought Leia was lying or even flirting when she said she didn't have time to worry about courting, and didn't want to be someone's wife. If anyone he's ever known has been married to her career first, it's the woman standing in front of him now and growing annoyed with his slow uptake of the situation.

She also said something about starting families. He puts a pin into that thought.

"What if I say no?" he asks, folding his arms. It's his last card to play, and this hand was never one he could win.

"Then I find someone who will, and I explain to them they have to share my time with the two of you." She's not joking. Her chin juts right into the air.

Luke kisses her on the cheek then kisses Han on the cheek. "I can't marry her, Han. You can. Both of you stop being stupid about it." He sits on the sofa and watches them patiently to see who gives in first. Han guesses it doesn't matter to Luke. He loses either way. While he and Han could decide to marry each other instead, it would force Leia into another marriage she doesn't want, and Luke will never do anything to make his sister unhappy.

Han lost this argument before he started. "Have you set the date?"

* * *

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

It's as small as he could hope. Leia insisted on no more than two newsfilers present, and she settles on three. She's got one of the last of her surviving gowns. Luke dragged Han out to buy new clothes with Leia's credits, and they both look pretty sharp today. Luke insists on sitting back a row while the front row is for the more important people Leia had to invite. "I should bring a date," he's said twice now, but he's sitting with Wedge. Han is almost positive they're not going home together tonight. Lando grins at him from a seat in the front row. He's been so busy with work lately Han hasn't even been able to coax him out for a sabaac game. Han's best friend in the universe insists on standing up beside Han, and cries through the whole thing, the big softy.

Everyone is watching them. He supposes he should do this right.

Leia's beautiful. She's always beautiful, whether covered in grime or dressed for a state occasion, but today she's far more beautiful than he's ever seen her. Han holds her hands in his and repeats what the officiant tells him to say. If part of him wishes they were doing this on Corellia where plural marriages are legal, well, every groom has one or two regrets he's smart enough not to say to his bride.

* * *

He has her on the floor moments after they arrive at their hotel on Spira. She has him on the sofa twenty minutes later.

The honeymoon lasts a week. They're fighting within two days. Han thrives on crashing against Leia, and even when her eyes are flashing in anger at him, the sex is amazing. Leia's been training with Luke, a little at a time, and she can pin Han down two times out of three. It's intense. Neither throws a punch, because they're both clear that's a line not to cross. Words draw blood better every time. His teeth rattle when his head hits the wall, and her wrists are bruised in a pattern he doesn't like to think about during the daylight hours.

They cut the trip short by day five and hurry home. She's got work. He's got more jobs from Captain Syndulla if he's ready to take them on, and he is.

But first, they return home, where Luke already has dinner waiting for them. He doesn't ask how the holiday went, only passes them dish after dish of their favourite foods as they wait for Chewie to retire to his own room and for the droids to shut down for the night.

Han bumps into Leia on their way back into their room. For a second, he expects her to explode at him. Instead, Luke tangles his fingers in her hair and suffocates her with a kiss like a drowning man. "I missed you," he says, lips red from the kiss when at last he pulls away to pull Han into an equally desperate embrace, mouth alive into his. Something in his eyes worries Han a lot right now.

"We're back. We're not going anywhere." Clothes. Clothes are hard, and Han's hands can't work his own buttons fast enough. He's got no hope for untying what Luke's wearing, and Leia's practically inside an entire building of fabric. Fingers manage to find skin soon enough. Luke's hand is on Han's prick just the way he likes it, and Leia's breasts are pressed against Luke's chest, and they haven't even hit the bed yet.

He longs for speed and thrust and _yes_ , but Luke is slow as space. It's a second wedding night, this one thoughtful and exploring. Han paces himself, kissing reminders into Leia's skin of all the reasons he loves her, burning touches against Luke's back as he slicks him open with oils before sliding into him. He sets up a calm rhythm he can't maintain, glacially steady while Luke's mouth is buried between Leia's thighs. The pair of them are in communion again, a perfect feedback loop sharing the pleasure each feels across the bond, and radiating back into Han like a pressure wave. He can feel every motion of Luke's tongue delving into sweet moisture exactly where Leia needs him, and he can feel the thickness of his own prick stretching Luke wide, and he feels the hot pressure and wet friction climb up his own spine as he tries to make this last.

Nothing compares. Nothing could.

* * *

He gets the call on his personal communicator. Han's out late on his own errands. He's at a bar making contacts. The New Republic can use good pilots, but they won't always have work for him and he likes keeping his hand in, just in case. Nothing illegal, not for the husband of the Senator (at Large), but not exactly work Leia wants to know about later.

"Is this Han Organa?"

He pauses. "I kept my name. But yeah."

"Sorry, sir. This is Constable Friar. My partner and I found your brother-in-law intoxicated in public. We'd like to avoid the press, and I'm sure you would as well. Please come and retrieve him and we'll speak no more of this."

Han stares at his communicator for a moment. "Sure. Give me your location and I'll be right there." He gets the information, grabs Chewie, and hurries.

Constable Friar has an open hand and a sly smile, and Han is not in the mood. He's got enough credits on him to buy the pair's silence as they lead him to Luke. He's passed out in the plaza where the ruins of the Jedi Temple lay bare and empty to the sky.

"Drunk," says the other constable, shaking her head and tsking. "Take him home. Let him sleep it off."

Han ignores them, checking Luke's pulse and his breathing, before he checks his eyes.

Luke doesn't drink, not since right after the first Death Star. Han thought it would be a great idea to show the kid a good time, let him get over his griefs the old-fashioned way, maybe even find a friendly pilot and get him laid. Instead, Luke drank a lot, and vomited for about two days. He hasn't touched the stuff since. Han doesn't think that's changed, and a sniff of his clothes confirms what he already suspected.

"Force trance," he says to Chewie though he's not sure how he knows. He just knows. "Come on. We'll get him home." The two of them heft Luke against their shoulders. Han glares at the constables. "I don't know if you've heard, but the Senator's brother is a Jedi. If you interrupted his work, I wouldn't want to be in your shoes."

Luke is out cold for days. Leia sits by his side when she can break away from work, holding his hand. "I can't reach him," she says. "He's gone somewhere far away."

Han suggests medical attention, more forcefully as the hours pass. "He needs water and food. He might need brain surgery."

"We can give him water," she says, and lets drops fall into Luke's slack mouth one by one. The rest of his body functions have paused, and thank whatever Force is watching out for them because Han loves him but he's not changing bedpans. They wait.

It's almost precisely three days later when his eyes open. He coughs into a sitting position and accepts a glass of nutrient water. There are dark hollows under his eyes. Even the small amount of time without eating has left his clothes hanging on him like a shroud on a skeleton.

"What have you done?" Leia sits beside him, not angry, but so worried Han's sure he sees grey poking through her hair for the first time.

"My research."

She lets out a hard breath. "This again?"

"I have to, Leia. I have to know."

Han often feels like he's come into a conversation late. "Gonna share?"

The twins exchange a glance. Han hates when they keep things from him. Leia says, "Luke's been researching Vader and the Dark Side."

A cold spike nails him to the floor. "You what?" He wants to shake Luke until his brain falls into place. "That stuff is dangerous."

"I have to understand," Luke says in a tired voice. "I need to know why he turned. I went to the Temple to read the stones. I had to relive the day he went to the Dark Side."

Han knows some of the legends, and he's learned more of the history. He doesn't want to know what Luke just relived, but Luke pushes on. "The day Vader rose to power, he slaughtered hundreds of Jedi. Most of them were children. To step completely into darkness, a Jedi must kill someone they love. I had to know who it was." Leia takes his face in her hands, but even Han can tell Luke has shut that place away from her. "You're happier not knowing."

She drops her hands into fists in her lap. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

"I felt him. The blood in the stones, the terror." His voice is chilly, dead. "I sensed his mind imprinted everywhere. I felt all of them crying out one by one as he killed them."

There's a blaster out in the sitting room. Han can reach it. He can't in a million years picture himself firing. Leia's stronger than he is, and if they are watching the destruction of the man they both love, she'll take the shot.

"He loved her." Luke is only speaking to Leia now. "Stamped everywhere was his fear for her, and his love for her. He fell because he loved our mother too much."

Leia doesn't move. "That doesn't change anything," she says, enunciating her words carefully. "He was evil, and he's dead now."

"He wasn't evil to begin with. He was frightened, and he was lost. The Emperor turned our father because he thought he could protect our mother and instead he killed her the day we were born." His hands slip down and unravel her fists like yarn until their fingers entwine. "Vader was supposed to be my first kill, and they almost succeeded because he threatened you, Leia. He knew I was enough like our father that I would do anything, become anything, to keep you safe. I would have struck him down, and I would have turned to the Dark Side." He squeezes her hands so tightly the skin on both sets of hands turn bone white. Han wants to step in, break Luke's grip before his artificial hand shatters Leia's bones, but he can't move. The air is crackling with the same oppressive energy Luke carried back with him from the second Death Star.

Leia bends into Luke and kisses him softly. "Now you know."

"I can still fall. As long as I love you, I can be turned. And I will never not love you."

"Then if you are turned and if you do fall, I'll cut you down myself. All right?"

Something passes out of Luke, like a nightmare finally released upon waking into sudden sunlight. His shoulders slump, and the air clears. He lets Leia pull him into a hug, and he whispers, "All right."

* * *

They don't speak of the incident again. The constables either believe Han's story or accept his payment, and never leak the juicy tidbit to the press. It's fine. It's going to be fine. Luke doesn't sign up for any more cargo runs or missions to distant systems. He doesn't go back to the Temple, but instead buries himself in Jedi lore, what remains after the long boot and eager matches of the Empire.

Leia has another treaty to negotiate, this time in person. Han flies her there, picking up odd jobs for the new Republic along the way there and back. It's an unsteady life, which is how he likes it, and they're spending enough time in space for Chewie to be happy.

Luke hasn't given up on his Vader obsession, no matter how much Han and Leia wish he would. As soon as they dock, he's rattling off information he's learned about Light and Dark. Over dinner, he talks about the books he's found, carefully hidden away until the right hand opens the lock. "The First Jedi Temple could have been the key," he says, passing the bread. "Apparently there's lost lore still there."

"How would you know?" Leia asks. "It's lost."

"The Jedi Order said the specific spells were never allowed to leave the original world. Too dangerous."

Han knows Luke. "So you want to go find them."

Luke pauses. "I don't. Not now. There are reasons the Temple was abandoned." There's something else, something he isn't saying. "It's a thought experiment. I keep thinking there should have been some way to turn Vader back to the side of good."

Leia wears her 'not this again' expression. "You did, Luke. You said he turned back at the end."

"I wish I could have saved him before the end. I don't know if I could have. The spell is dangerous. Even trying to locate the First Temple is dangerous. But the lore says the Force can restore a fallen Jedi to the light if a powerful enough Jedi works the incantation and makes the right sacrifice." He's got that distant smile again. "It's a daydream. He's gone. But I wonder, if I'd known, and if I found the Temple, could I have saved him?"

Han doesn't like talking about Vader any more than Leia does. They both spent time with the torture droids. As far as he's concerned, the bastard is better off dead and forgotten. He's also not keen on the word 'sacrifice' considering what Luke said about how Jedi fall.

"What kind of sacrifice?" Leia asks, also quick to notice the keywords in her brother's rambles.

"It's a sacrifice of self," Luke says, glancing at both of them as if he's not suggesting he would have committed suicide to bring Vader back to the Light Side. "It's a paradox, though. To be a truly powerful Jedi, you must surrender your emotions and attachments. And to work the restoration, you have to love someone enough to stand in their place for utter annihilation. The Order worked very, very hard to ensure there was no one capable of both." He took a bite of his bread. "Thought experiment."

Han shares a look with Leia. They'll file this under 'Luke being weird again' and move on. Han never forgets the faraway look in Luke's eyes, though, and in times to come he often thinks about the steely thought underneath:

 _I could have saved him._

* * *

They've been together two years. Han is buried deep inside Leia, numb and happy from their coupling. Luke is sticky beside them, his hand covered with a mess because watching them was enough to set him off. It's nice. It's cozy.

Leia ruins the moment. "I think we should have a baby."

It's ice water on his brain. Han pulls out from her, feeling the rush of fluid covering their thighs as he does. Like most women, Leia has always been in tune with her own body, and has practiced regulating her fertility. Given the number of times she's taken her twin brother into her body, this has been a blessing. That's all about to change. Han's mouth is even slower than his brain. "What do you mean you want a baby?"

"I didn't say want. I said we should have."

Luke's eyes are closed. He finally opens them. "That's a good idea. You've always wanted children of your own."

Leia nods. Never a husband, she always said, but Han can't count the number of times she's spoken longingly of a family. Leia does everything on her own terms.

Han considers arguing. He doesn't. Kids have never been a priority for him, but he's not opposed to the notion. And maybe, just maybe, giving Luke a kid to dote over will be enough to pull his head out of the past for good.

She starts by denying them both sex for a couple of weeks. Han decides this is the perfect opportunity for a little one on one time with Luke, a chance they've been lacking now that Luke doesn't come along for the missions. Instead, Luke shuts the door to his own bedroom and meditates. All. The. Damn. Time. Han has gone from as much sex as he can stand to no sex at all. This is a terrible transition, and Chewie does not care to listen to him complain, pointing out unsympathetically that Han knew they were both nuts when he fell for them.

He does finally convince Luke that they don't have to be celibate while waiting for Leia to get herself into tune. He is at his most convincing on his knees sucking Luke down like water. Before Luke can return the favor, the door rings. This is the first time Han has ever had to entertain a visiting dignitary waiting for Leia while coping with a painful erection. He really, really, _really_ hopes it's the last. Luke isn't worried, oh no, and gives the dignitary the most satisfied smile Han's ever left on someone's face. Jerk.

The days pass. Leia tells him over breakfast when she's ready. Han says, "Great, so you cancel your plans for the day, while I..."

"Tonight." She kisses him on the nose before bouncing off to work.

He doesn't honestly believe he's going to die before the day is out, no matter how deadly blue balls feel at the time. It's a long day nonetheless under Captain Syndulla's orders. Today he's helping to unload a freighter and assisting Chewie with the repairs. Several times, he bangs his hand or his head thinking about tonight.

"I'll leave you two alone," Luke says as soon as they're back home for dinner.

"Stay," Leia says, hand on his. "Please stay."

It's no different from any other night they've been together. Han keeps telling himself this, as he kisses her, as Luke kisses down her neck. They've been together hundreds of times. But this time, he's sliding slickly into her, and he knows. He knows this time is special.

Luke settles himself beside her, kissing her mouth as Han makes short, deliberate thrusts. Their hands join at where Han enters her, fingers pushing her towards her peak. He wants this, wants her to have this. He buries his face in her hair and drinks her in as they make this new thing together. He's glad he waited away from her. It's only been a few weeks, but everything is new again, and Han comes hoping for good tomorrows.

They make love over and over for the next few days. Luke pours oil to warm in his hand before readying Han to accept him. He fits just right and Han can't think, not here poised between them, not with Luke warm against his back and Leia warm against his chest, not with his balls so heavy he can't move but can only be moved between them. Then it's Leia's turn to be loved between them, Luke spending the better part of an hour opening her just as he opened Han, and Han amazed at the sight of himself buried inside her. He feels Luke inside her, filling her, stretching her against where Han is sheathed deep. Leia's face is caught in an emotion Han can't name and tries to kiss off her, but she holds his lips in her teeth and moans as they find their rhythm together, filling her and waning like an ocean on a forgotten world. Luke's thoughts bind them, pull out their pleasures into each other, and Han feels himself impaled twice over, feels the tight, hot push as Luke drives deeper, feels the crash of Leia's orgasm whip into him and knock him senseless into his own.

His arms aren't long enough to hold them both the way he wants to, after, when Leia is fast asleep and Luke is resting lightly. Han tries anyway.

He doesn't know why he's remembering Lando's words now, but he can't get the phrase "This won't end well" out of his mind.

* * *

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

She's pregnant. Leia is pregnant. His wife is pregnant.

All the stars in the galaxy are askew.

"I can feel her," she says, brushing her fingers down her still-flat abdomen. "There's hardly anything there, but I can feel what she'll be like."

Her face glows with delight. She won't announce until she's halfway through. Women are funny that way. Han wants to shout the words to the streets. He can wait.

They make simple plans, silly plans. Leia will take a sabbatical while she recovers from the birth. Among Han, Luke, Chewie, the droids, and any number of easily-hired helpers, child care should be simply a matter of determining who will be on world when.

Luke rests his head on her belly. "She'll need a name."

"Breha," Leia says, and will brook no arguments.

* * *

Han feels her pain before he even knows what's happened, and without question, he leaves the spaceport to find Leia. She's been rushed from the Senate to the hospital. Luke has already arrived. It's good, Han knows. Someone has been there to hold her hand. They can both hold her when she cries later.

"I'm sorry," intones the med droid with programmed empathy.

"It's fine," Leia says. "Thank you."

Her face is tight, and she's in pain for a while afterwards. He never sees her shed a single tear.

Han's not as stoic, and Luke holds him when they both know Leia isn't near. "She's like that," Luke soothes. "She doesn't grieve out loud. We met her the day her parents died. Leia moves on. It's how she survives."

She returns to work the next day, because she doesn't want to sit around their home and mope. Han wants to sit around and mope.

"We'll try again when she's ready," Luke says, and goes back to his ancient books.

* * *

Two months later, she's pregnant again. Han's less sure this time. He wants her to be safe. Luke is happy enough, finally allowed back with her. Han watches her astride Luke, seeking her own pleasure. Her belly is flat but they both are sure she's caught again.

Han bends in to kiss her stomach, kiss his way down until he can just get his mouth where she wants it and where he can give Luke a lick. Han's worried, and a little superstitious. Maybe Luke's seed is too strong for her. Maybe that's what caused her to miscarry. Maybe it's Vader's dark legacy. Any sane person would look at the two of them and immediately pull them apart, but Han is hard as iron watching them writhe together. His hands shake as he drips the oil, and shake more as he guides himself into Luke perhaps a little too soon, pushing in as Luke thrusts up and pulling a shout from Luke's throat. Han settles behind Leia, holding her, and praying to whatever presence is listening that he can keep them all safe this time.

* * *

Han's allowed in the birthing room, and they get Luke in by claiming he has a Jedi trick for easing her pain. The med droids are unsure about this. Han's not sure he's not conning them, but as soon as his hands touch Leia's face, Han can see the tension drop from her straining body.

After five hours, Leia pushes their son out into the dimmed lights of the birthing suite. Droids and the doctor zoom around, siphoning mucus from his nose, helping her pass the placenta, sewing the small place where she tore. Han kisses her forehead but otherwise stays out of the way, and so does Luke. They keep meeting each other's eyes, and Han sees his own fear and excitement mirrored back.

They have a son. He's alive. They're all alive, and they have a son. Han's got that hyperspace feeling all over again, and he can see Luke does, too.

At last, Leia is presented with her baby. She's pleased, and she's tired. They still haven't settled on a name. She doesn't want to name him after her adopted father, not now, her own superstitions flying into her face like flocking mynocks. She will not name him after her birth father. Han doesn't remember his own parents. Luke loved the aunt and uncle who raised him, but he's not naming a child for either one.

"Ben," he says, after the droids have shuttled out and the doctor has gone away. He's settled into a chair on one side, and Han on the other. Leia's nodding off, the baby still in her arms.

"Ben," Leia agrees sleepily.

Han wants to suggest Jehoshaphat or Ebeneezer, just to be contrary. Another argument he has no chance of winning. He takes his son from Leia's slackening grasp and tries to hold him right side up. "Hello, Ben."

Luke watches him from across Leia, giving her hand a squeeze. There are pain lines on his face. When he eased her, he took that pain into himself. There's nothing he won't do for Leia.

"He's so red," Han says, tracing every line with his eyes.

"He's perfect," Luke says.

* * *

The early days are the best days. Ben eats and sleeps and poops, and not much else. Leia spends most of her recovery time in bed with him, nursing or cuddling or resting. She doesn't even take a datapad with her, which is unheard of. Han referees the well-wishers away from her, and shows pictures of the scrunched up red face to everyone who asks and to plenty who don't. Lando brings a huge gift of a bassinet and toys, and he gets to pay his personal respects to mother and son.

"He looks just like you," Lando says to Han after the door is closed.

"I don't see it."

"You scrunch up and cry the same way."

"You do," Luke agrees. Lando is the only other person except Chewie who is allowed to see Luke play proud papa. To the rest of the galaxy, he's the doting uncle. Lando stays for a while, and it's been a long time. He's as busy as Leia these days.

"We could use more pilots," Han reminds him.

"I've got skills that are better used here, I'm afraid."

He and Luke talk, and that's weird. Han has Lando in a box of 'my friend' rather than 'our friend' but he worked with Luke way back getting Han's butt free from Jabba. They've stayed friends outside of Han's influence. Part of him worries for Luke, wondering what trouble Lando is setting him up for, because Han can't let go of the notion this is all one big score for his old friend. The other part of him has noticed Lando officially went straight around the same time he met Luke, and maybe it's not a long con after all.

There's a loud cry from the bedroom. Luke's the first up, offering to walk Ben around to calm him.

"He's got a temper," Leia says, settling herself onto the sofa. "I have no idea where he gets that from."

Han and Luke meet eyes past her. Leia continues to have a Leia-shaped hole in her thoughts about Darth Vader. She will acknowledge, under pressure, that he was her biological father. She's far more interested in stories of her biological mother. She's researched Padmé Amidala almost as much as Luke has researched Anakin Skywalker. She doesn't care about Anakin Skywalker, and she will not admit her son shares one single gene with him if she can help it.

Lando's not saying anything. He doesn't know everything. He's just thinking how many times Han has lost his temper and that one time Leia threatened to kill him, and he's not sharing.

* * *

Han's the expert feeder. Luke's the expert pacer at midnight to soothe Ben back to sleep. Chewie's good at burping but he hates the mess Ben leaves on his fur three times out of four. Leia is the center of Ben's whole world, his face lighting up as soon as she's home, and crumpling into despair when she leaves the room.

The first real indication they're in for trouble is the first time Ben drops his pacifier onto the floor and no one immediately retrieves it. Ben screams, and before Han has suss out what the issue is, a small piece of plastic and silicone is hovering in the air, tumbling towards Ben's chubby hands.

"Luke," Han says, watching his son. Luke doesn't reply. Han opens his door, still keeping Ben in sight. "Luke, how old were you when you started showing your powers?"

"I always knew things I shouldn't have. I didn't learn to use the Force until the time you and I met. Why?"

"Guess who's an early developer?"

Luke is already making plans for a school. There are other Force sensitives out there, and Captain Syndulla has been a treasure trove of new contacts. He wants to gather them together. He wants to train them, and be trained.

Ben is his first tentative experiment.

"Close your eyes," Luke says patiently for the sixth time. Ben giggles and plays with his own fingers. "Close you eyes, Ben. We're going to play a game. I want you to imagine a blue ball."

This has taken days. He goes through the words again, never growing tired. Han is bored after the second try. Leia tries to follow along, because she too wants to learn how to harness the powers she's always had living under her skin, but there are meetings to take and formal missives to write. She hasn't fled into her office, but Luke's gentle voice is grating on her. Han can tell.

"Imagine a big blue ball," Luke says again, and suddenly, Han is far back enough.

"Luke, he's doing it."

Luke glances at Han with a touch of annoyance. Even Leia looks up from her work. And then they see what Han has seen.

The entire room is taken up with a glowing blue ball, so faint they can barely see it although they all stand inside.

Luke looks back at Ben, face breaking into a smile. "Good job."

* * *

Ben's almost two, and has levitated the table twice, and Luke is packing.

"I don't understand," Leia says. Her hands are clearly itching to put his clothes back, to push him back. "Luke, you live here. You don't have to go."

"He's talking." Luke takes another shirt and folds it. "He's smart, Leia. He's so smart. He knows the three of us share a room."

"Of course we do. We are his parents." She yanks the shirt away. "We are all his parents."

"I know." Luke's voice is heavy. Han can't move from the doorway. "I can't stay here and be his other father any longer. He will tell someone. He doesn't know it's wrong."

"It's not wrong," she says, and there's that steel in her voice. "I love you. I have loved you for years. And you love me."

"I know!"

Luke never shouts, never at Leia. It's enough to break Han's heart now. It's more than enough to break the hold on his feet and propel him into the room. "Don't do this."

Luke's gaze is torn from her to Han. "I have to go now. Before he understands. Before he remembers. He'll remember I lived next door. He'll know I love him. He'll call me his uncle, and we'll do things together. I will visit every day that I can. I'll show him how to use his powers. I'll take him on trips. I will be there for Ben, Leia, I swear. But I can't let him grow up seeing us together. You know that."

"I don't care what other people think."

"Yes, you do," Han says. "You're the one who has to. Luke and I can hop in the ship and go to the outer rim and work our way across the galaxy and back, and no one will care if we're friends or lovers or married. But you love your work here, and you will lose everything the day Ben tells his first teacher he's got two dads." It's killing him to say the words.

"Plural marriages are going to be legalized by the Senate. I've got the legislation past the last committee."

Luke closes his eyes. "There's no legislation that will ever make it legal for me to marry you."

"Then you two get married. Take the _Falcon_ to Corellia. They don't care about prior marriages."

There was that. But they have talked this through, on cargo runs and diplomatic envoys, and remained carefully circumspect around others. Han doesn't let himself hold Luke's hand where anyone can see. Luke certainly never greets him with a kiss outside of their home. Making their relationship public would lead to questions about Leia, and now, about Ben.

Luke takes her hands. "You know I will never stop loving you or Han. There is no power in the universe that could make me feel even an atom less."

"Then stay here with us." Leia doesn't cry when she's grieving. She doesn't cry when she loses someone. But Han has seen her cry before when Luke walked away, and he knows what's coming.

Han can't prevent what's happening any more than he could hold back a flood with his hand. He doesn't have to like it. He goes to Luke, and he takes his face in his hands, kissing him deeply. He can feel Luke's sorrow pass through the kiss. He can feel Luke's heart crack, or perhaps just the echo of his own. "Stay tonight. Stay one more night. You can go before we wake up."

Ben's asleep in his crib in another room. He won't hear. He won't remember, and that's how things must be.

They take their time with one another. Han knows every scar on Luke's skin. Luke has stroked every line of proud flesh on Han's and Leia's old scars. Hundreds of kisses patter down now, marking out a past they can never return to. Hands join hands, tender and mindful and wanting. Luke guides himself into Leia and moves inside her.

Leia's throat catches as she says, "Both. I want to feel you both together."

They haven't tried this. Han's terrified they'll hurt her, but her eyes plead in needy want. Her body stretched to accommodate a child. Luke keeps up his tender pace, eagerly wetting Han deep inside his mouth and down his throat. Spit-slick and ready, Han waits for Luke to withdraw, then holds them both together. Leia hisses as they slide in yet urges them onwards.

This is too tight, too much, with Luke's prick hot and sliding against his in perfect friction, and Leia bearing down on them both as she moans. "More," she says, and he's not sure she means more, but he can see the pain lines moving onto Luke's face, and he can feel Luke thrusting faster, deeper.

It's enough to be here. It's enough to feel their minds, both fluttering on that knife edge between pleasure and pain. Luke can barely hold himself together now, and Han takes over, driving them both at his own speed, focusing on the talcum smell of Leia's skin and the velvet softness of Luke's where they meet.

It's good, it's better than good, and it's awful because they will never hold each other this way ever again. Han comes with a long, heavy sob.

Luke is gone when Han and Leia wake.

* * *

He is good on his word, and comes by almost every day. He trains Ben, and he teaches him. In public and in private, Luke is the perfectly polite, perfectly normal brother for Leia, and steadfast friend for Han. He still talks them through their fights and bruised feelings, and makes dinner. He loves them enough to pretend he isn't dying a little each day when he leaves. Han's more selfish. It's a failing.

He says the same thing over and over and only where Leia can't hear. "Stay over. It's dark out. It's cold. Stay here." Sometimes he tries for a kiss.

Luke never stays, and his eyes accuse Han of cheating as he says, "Give Leia my love."

On a particularly selfish night, after yet another round of arguments with his wife over nothing they both blew up into something, Han takes Luke by the shoulders. "Give it to her yourself." He squeezes. "We need you here."

Luke's face is drawn into that same pain, the shadowed valleys of his thoughts clear.

"A Jedi cannot afford attachments." His eyes are on Ben, who is playing on the rug. He's not paying attention, but they both must be careful what they say.

"You said you were the last Jedi. You said you could choose what a Jedi does and doesn't do."

"Then let me choose, Han. Let me choose to let you and Leia live your lives. Anyone could use you to get to me, to turn me. The Emperor almost succeeded, and I can't go against that choice again. I nearly fell to the Dark Side for Leia once. For the three of you?" He looks at Ben again. "I'd destroy worlds."

Han kisses him, unheeding of their plan to hide away. Luke allows the kiss, and that's how Han knows he isn't coming back tomorrow.

"I love you," Han breathes into his mouth, and Luke's eyes are wet as he pulls away, mouthing the only two words he can say to that.

* * *

After, when the Jedi training school is in ruins, and Ben is gone to the Dark Side, there's only one message left in R2's databanks. Leia replays Luke's hologram over and over, as if she thinks he will change his plans if she listens long enough.

 _"He's my son, too. I have to try to save him."_

"He didn't say where he was going?" Han asks.

"No." But her face is set, and they both know exactly where Luke is headed.

* * *

end


End file.
